


Pulse 2

by coldfusion9797



Series: Pulse [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Kissing, M/M, Non-Graphic Smut, Sibling Incest, Slash, Some Humor, Stitches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:07:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26350888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coldfusion9797/pseuds/coldfusion9797
Summary: Dean wakes up beside Sam, and things heat up from there.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Series: Pulse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1914787
Kudos: 193





	Pulse 2

**Author's Note:**

> Am I about to ruin a good thing? Maybe. So, if the last part was the pre-slash, this part is the actual slash, which means if you want to read that last part as platonic, leave now! For the rest of you, I hope this is okay. Writing smut isn't really my thing, but I have tried to keep it as in character as possible, and make it fit with the tone of the show. Enjoy…

Dean stirs awake, his cheek is hot where it's pressed against a warm body, sleepily he stretches, sliding his hand down soft cotton which overlays firm muscle and breathes deep the most comforting scent in the world. Sam.

He hums his approval and then suddenly a hand is squeezing his wrist, stopping his southward progress.

"Ow," Sam complains.

He lifts his head to see Sam's face, pinched tight with pain, and remembers a second too late Sam's stitched up belly. Immediately he lifts his hand, leaving it hovering uselessly an inch or two above Sam's abdomen.

"Jesus, Sammy. I forget for a second. I'm sorry."

Sam isn't mad, just smiles/grimaces at him, like it's good he could get past yesterday's shitshow for a second. And for a second, it was.

"Let me take a look," he offers, peeling Sam's shirt up, revealing his contoured stomach, and he has to admit that all those salads and early-morning runs do pay off. The wound itself is looking pretty good, having antibiotics to go along with the stitch job has helped.

In his half-awake explorations he hasn't done any damage, everything is still where it should be, though it's hard to shake the dreadful feeling that he had to fish a bullet out of there just yesterday. He meant to keep it as a memento but somewhere between getting tasered, waking up in the hospital and killing himself with a drug overdose, he lost the thing.

Still, Sammy will have a scar to remember what happened for the rest of his life.

"How's it look?" Sam questions.

"Pretty sure you'll live." And that should be the end of his explorations here, but some part of him isn't quite ready to finish yet.

Ever so lightly, he brushes his fingertip over the pink skin around the wound, knowing from his own experiences that it will be supersensitive

Sam sucks in quick breath, not in pain, but in _need_.

"Dean..."

He doesn't answer, doesn't look up, doesn't do anything that could cause him to lose his nerve. Instead, he just leans over, and this time does the same thing but with his lips.

He can feel the ends of the threads tickling the tip of his nose, Sam's skin burning under his mouth, and when he lays a palm flat over Sam's heart, he can feel it thudding twice as hard as it was last night.

"Dean..." This time in Sam's voice, it isn't just need, it's _want_ , and his name spilling from Sam's lips like that lights a fire in his belly.

This time it's his tongue he sweeps across Sam's skin, then he's pushing the hem of Sam's shirt up further, caressing every new inch of skin with his lips until they're pressed over Sam's beating heart. He can't take this back now, he doesn't want to, and it doesn't seem like Sam wants him to either.

In one swift motion, Sam manages to pull his shirt clean off, Dean immediately follows suit, and then they're staring at each other wide-eyed, because if this was anyone else the next step would be obvious, a kiss on the mouth, with tongue, maybe teeth and lots of heat.

He glances down at Sam's mouth, doesn't want to ask if it's okay because that will definitely ruin the moment, but then Sam's hand is behind his head, pulling him down and there is no time to question it anymore before their mouths come together, hot and slick and... _so damn good_.

He wants to climb over Sam, press his whole body down on top of him, but there's just enough sense left in him to remember the wound, and he doesn't want to hurt Sam.

Sam however, has different ideas.

He pushes Dean's shoulder, and suddenly Dean is on his back, Sam on top of him, one leg either side of him so he can feel how turned on they both are. A moan escapes him. Sam rolls his hips in response.

"Oh God..." It's so good, but also, it's Sam, so he can't switch the worry off altogether. "Sammy... Don't pull a stitch..."

Sam laughs.

"Dean, that is the last thing on my mind right now."

"I'm serious."

"So am I. You can sew."

There's no more arguing because Sam leans down and catches his mouth, hungrily kissing him again.

He's never really thought about Sam and sex, but if he had of, he wouldn't have expected this, though in hindsight that's probably silly. Sam is intense, fierce, demanding. Maybe he thought Sam would be more gentle, but then, he is a damn fine hunter, fast, strong, brutal, despite all the bookworm stuff. He doesn't talk the talk when it comes to physicality, but he certainly walks the walk. Right now, he's being reminded that Sam is younger than him, fitter than him, and it seems, stronger than him too. And that little fact turns out to be a massive turn _on_.

He bucks up against Sam, in part to test his strength, Sam instinctually pushing him down harder.

His whole body is pulsing with desire when their eyes meet, and they size each other up. They've spent so much time together that they can basically read each other's thoughts, but this situation is wholly unprecedented, and it's impossible for either of them to anticipate what the other's next move will be. It only takes moments for all that to pass between them, and then they're both getting in each other's way as they try to get rid of their boxers.

It's kind of a mess, and Dean feels as inept as a teenager for a moment, when Sam shoves his hands away and gets rid of the underwear himself with a couple of quick yanks and a bit of shimmying. Then Dean's hand is between them, touching them both.

The feel of his own dick and how it fits in his hand is very familiar, but Sam, that's different. He can tell that Sam's bigger than him and for a millisecond that bothers him, but then he thinks about all that up inside him, and any residual disappointment vanishes. Not today, but one day, they might actually go there.

For now, Dean grips them both, letting Sam thrust to create the friction.

Sam's mouth is on his, not quite kisses anymore, more like wet swipes and hot puffs of air. Dean's attempts at reciprocation aren't any better, his brain is short-circuiting a little here because he can't quite figure out if he wants to fuck Sam or make love to him.

Sam's using one hand to brace above him, and the other slides along Dean's free forearm, until Sam's hand reaches his, and he laces their fingers together. Sam squeezes tight, and Dean squeezes back, and there's just something about how that says they are both here, now, and in this together, that lights Dean's fire all the more. His other hand tightens too, and then he's coming, hard, fingernails biting into the back of Sam's hand.

When he floats back down, he makes sure Sam's taken care of, bringing one hand up to fist in Sam's hair, as he works him again until he comes, rutting between them, slick now with Dean's cum.

Sam tenses above him, and then he feels more slick between them. Done, Sam kind of just sags down on him, all two-hundred and something pounds pressing him into the mattress, and in that moment Dean is utterly certain there is nowhere else in all creation, that he would rather be. He wraps Sammy up, as girly as that is, and can feel Sammy's heart beating against his own.

Maybe now this is the part where one of them needs to say something.

Sam's speaking against his neck, and he's talking into Sammy's hair.

"Are you o-" They both go to ask at the same time. It's the same question they've asked each other a thousand times over, and is just so very _them_.

They both laugh, and that's a good sign, nothing has been ruined here.

"Wanna get off me you big lump?" Dean says, because as much as he would like to, they can't stay like this forever.

"No..." Sam grumbles.

"Sammy..." And then it occurs to Dean that Sam might have done some damage to himself.

"Come on," he encourages, pressing against Sam's shoulder. "Just one roll to the side."

Sam complies. Eventually.

So then that leaves them in bed together, naked and sticky, with Dean needing to check those damn stitches again.

It's evident straight away that they've made a mess, so he grabs the nearest handful of sheet and wipes Sam's belly clean.

"Gross," Sam says.

"What do you care?" Dean counters. "It's not your bed. Now hold still."

He leans in closer and yep, there it is. He can't say whether is his or Sam's but it's there drying between the stitches all the same. Jesus Christ, how on Earth would they ever explain that to a doctor?

Well one thing he knows for sure is that it's gonna need cleaning.

"Stay there," Dean instructs as he gets up.

"Where are you going?"

"Supplies. Don't worry, I'm not going too far."

Dean fishes around in his sock drawer because there's gotta be something in here somewhere...

"What are you doing?"

He throws a cheeky grin over his shoulder at Sam.

"Allowing you to enjoy the view." And maybe he wiggles his ass just a little bit.

"Jerk," Sam says, losing the battle against a smile.

"Bitch," Dean laughs back at him.

Soon enough, he comes up with a half a bottle of vodka.

"Seriously, Dean?" Sam snorts. "What are you? Fourteen?"

"Hey, don't knock the classics, Sammy."

He thinks about taking a swig, but then doesn't, they haven't even had breakfast yet, plus he doesn't want to wash the taste of Sam away.

He grabs a fresh bandana, and climbs back onto the bed beside Sam. He tips some booze on the cloth, and gently wipes Sam's wound until it's all clean.

"At least you didn't pull any."

He looks up to see Sam smirking back at him, and it's funny how that look suddenly puts a whole bunch of butterflies in his tummy.

"We can do much better than that, Dean."

"Oh," he says, doing his best to pretend that statement doesn't turn him into total a pile of mush because Sam wants to do this again. "I'm counting on it."

He chucks the bandana on the floor, shrugs, decides he will have that mouthful of vodka after all, then tosses the bottle too.

And damn Sam looks so irresistible laying here like this, so Dean stretches out beside him, propped up with a hand back over Sam's heart. It's beating hard and fast, full of life, and is everything, the only thing, that Dean needs to be sure of to make this whole crazy mess called life worth living.

"Now what?" Dean asks. It's not gonna be a onetime thing, but is it just a bedtime thing?

"Now," Sam says. "I need to pee."

"Oh, real romantic."

"If it's romance you want, go make me some breakfast."

Well he can't really say no when Sammy just got shot yesterday.

"Fine." He moves to get up but Sam stops him with a hand behind his head.

"But first..."

Then he's pulling Dean down for another kiss, a harder, deeper one this time, and well doesn't that just conjure up all sorts of notions about what's to come between them.

When they finish, and Dean's looking down at Sam all dopey like, Sam smiles up at him in a way that makes Dean's stomach flip right over.

"Dean?" Sam says, like he's got a confession to make. He can't wait to hear what Sam's gonna say next.

"Yeah?"

"Make sure you use low-fat milk in those pancakes."

That makes Dean laugh, because they're still everything they were, just more. And also, no way.

"Not a chance, Sammy." Then he presses another quick kiss to Sam's mouth and finally feels ready to face another day.


End file.
